


ginger tea

by ikkiru



Category: Layton Brothers: Mystery Room, Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24594478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikkiru/pseuds/ikkiru
Summary: Lucy Baker/Sick!Alfendi Layton fic. Just tender caretaking, unestablished relationship, a little bit of mutual pining.
Relationships: Lucy Baker/Alfendi Layton
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	1. ginger tea

**Author's Note:**

> My professor said to "write what you need" and that's why I wrote a 3k LuciFendi Sickfic in three days, because it's what I need.  
> I've always felt that, at the end of the game, Alfendi's personalities begin to merge, so I try to display a little bit of both in the way he acts. Some rash, some meek. I do separate them at one point, but I try to keep them together mostly!  
> I really liked writing this, because I needed the comfort right now. I hope you enjoy.  
> The second chapter is just a mini epilogue, I couldn't slide it smoothly with the rest of the fic so it's a bit stand alone.

Lucy walked into an empty Mystery Room, shedding her overcoat at the door as she observed the untouched room. She presumed she had arrived early for once - it seemed as if Alfendi lived in the Mystery Room, at times. As she approached her desk, she stopped to examine a sole piece of legal paper and an accompanying envelope in the middle of her desk. Neat cursive writing filled the lines, an unfamiliar script to Lucy, accompanied by a few choice words highlighted in bright ink.  
 _Lucy,  
As you have likely already seen, Inspector Layton has called himself out sick today. While we have no qualms about letting you handle cases by yourself, there’s an unusual lull here at the office, and you know the Inspector doesn’t like people playing with his 3D imaging tech. Instead, we ask that you deliver the Inspector his paycheck at his residence, and you can go home with paid time off for today. Both paycheck and address are attached below.  
Thanks,  
Commissioner._  
Despite a seemingly legitimate signature from the Commissioner, she had a hard time believing the neat cursive belonged to him. _Well, I suppose it can’t be helped,_ Lucy thought, folding the legal paper so only the highlighted address was visible. She slipped the folded paper into her pocket for easy access, and slid the sealed paycheck envelope into her bag, heading back to the door. Returning her jacket to her shoulders, she took a final look at the stale Mystery Room before turning and planning her assault on Alfendi’s flat.

Stepping off the bus, Lucy took another glance at the address in her pocket, trying to memorize the numbers. Despite how much she bought at the convenience store, the bag didn’t feel heavy in the slightest, and she continued on towards the apartment building only a few blocks away. As she walked, she noticed it was quite a distance away from both Scotland Yard and Katrielle Layton’s dwelling, both of which lay within the heart of London. She pondered if that was an intentional choice on the Inspector’s part. Lucy began her ascent up the stairs, hoisting the grocery bag higher on her shoulder and counting the numbers steadily increasing, until she reached his door. She pulled out the address one more time, double checking, before pressing the buzzer. She tapped her foot, no movement heard from within, waiting idly. Slowly, a lock clicked from behind the door, opening to reveal a tall, hunched figure. Clad in an ill fitting band t-shirt, dark blue plaid pajama pants, Alfendi seemingly missed Lucy’s figure and turned to the mailbox above the buzzer.  
“Mail...came early…” He murmured, sticking his hand into the metal box, only to withdraw it empty handed. He then cast his gaze upon Lucy, allowing her to take in his pained and feverish facial expression. Alfendi’s face was flushed a deep crimson, his eyes dulled and half lidded with exhaustion.   
“Lucy? What are you doing here?” Alfendi choked out, his voice hoarse and quiet, a hand supporting his figure against the door frame.  
“Ah, well, ya see,” Lucy stammered, suddenly left speechless in his presence, “The Commissioner said ya were sick, so he sent me home. But wanted me to give ya your paycheck, for the month.”  
“Oh,” Alfendi murmured, “It could’ve waited until next week, but thank you.”  
“Oh, oh but!” Lucy shuffled, frantically trying to open the grocery bag, “I bought ya some goodies, can I come in to help fix them up for ya?” She shoved the open bag in his face, hoping to sway him to her side.  
“I mean, sure, I don’t need the help but I’ll appreciate it,” Alfendi stepped aside, almost faltering, to let her inside. Lucy crossed the barrier, entering his domain, chills running down her spine as the door and lock slid into place.  
“Where do ya want your paycheck, Prof?” She slid it from the inner depths of her bag as Alfendi walked away, towards his bedroom. He paused, gingerly taking the envelope from her hands and nodding a thank you.  
“So, I bought some tea - I mean, I figure ya’d have some, but this is ginger! It’s good for ya, okay, and I bought some lemon and honey for it, just in case ya only use sugar,” She took the tea canister from the bag and placed it on the coffee table, following with two lemons and a small jar of honey. Continuing on, she pulled multiple cans of soup from the bag, a hot waterbottle, a bag of sucker candy, a bottle of ginger ale, and finally, a soft, pink - seemingly cheap - blanket, patterned with red hearts. It seemed quite small too, likely for a child, but Alfendi stayed silent. Everything Lucy had purchased created a formidable tower atop Alfendi’s table, as he watched from the doorway to his bedroom.   
“This is...really a lot, Lucy, and I appreciate it,” Alfendi began, blinking to try and focus his blurry vision, “I kind of just need to sleep, I think.” He tried to retreat back into his room, but cold hands gripped his wrists, shocking him into staying.  
“Oh, nonsense, Prof, you need some fluids in ya,” Lucy paused, “I tell you what, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll make summat for ya? I can just wake ya once I’m done.” Alfendi watched her quietly, her eyes filled to the brim with a genuity difficult to resist.  
“...Alright.” At his terse words, she smiled, releasing his hand and watching as he stumbled himself into bedroom, the door shutting quietly behind him. Lucy finally took a moment to breathe, turning to look at the mound of rations she bought.  
 _Well, maybe I did go a bit overboard. But, can’t change that now!_ She shrugged, finally taking off her heavy overcoat and pochette, only to find there was no coat rack anywhere in the living space of his flat. She settled with using the couch, and took a moment to fully embrace her surroundings. It was a rather modest flat, especially for someone like Prof - a couch, a coffee table, a neat kitchenette, and a small bookshelf. A single plant in the corner seemed to both bloom and wither at the same time, and the bookshelf was tidy, despite being dusty. Books of the same height were lined next to each other, bookended by picture frames holding down small stacks of paper and envelopes.   
Lucy gathered a few of her offerings - a single chicken noodle soup can and the tea canister - before entering the kitchenette’s tiled barrier. It was quaint, featuring most amenities and embellishments a kitchen should have, but most seemed to go unused. The pots and pans looked brand new, and the rest of the kitchen was nearly spotless, but Lucy figured it was not Alfendi’s tenacity for cleaning that kept it so neat. The most used item in the kitchen was an immensely well loved kettle, scuffed and becoming darker with age, sitting on the stove. Lucy decided to start there, filling it with water from the sink and starting the stove clicker. She took down a hanging pot for the soup, and searched three cabinets before finding a small collection of mugs and teacups. Most were devoid of design, except a handmade mug painted red and blue, and a delicate china teacup that didn’t fit with any of the others. Lucy hummed to herself, prepping the handmade mug with a generous helping of tea leaves, slicing lemon pieces as the soup warmed and the kettle boiled.  
“It smells good. Chicken noodle?” Alfendi startled her from behind, towering over her as he looked into the pot.  
“Ee, Prof, ya started me,” Lucy exclaimed, the knife cutting lemon wedges clattering against the wooden cutting board, she froze from his presence, “It’s chicken noodle, but what are ya doing up? Ya should be in bed.”  
“Reading material. Got bored,” Alfendi gave a quick feverish grin, gesturing to the small book he held in one hand, “But anyways, you should probably go home. Soup and tea isn’t anything I couldn’t have made myself. I don’t want to get you sick.”  
“But, Prof, you really don’t look too…” Lucy paused, pondering her words, “Well? Ya don’t look very well.” Alfendi blinked, pausing for a moment himself, a chuckle passed his lips before being replaced with a small cough.  
“If-if I leave, Prof, will you call Katrielle? And have her take care of ya?”  
“Call Katrielle? You’re joking,” Alfendi stepped closer to the kitchenette, turning the stove off as the kettle shrieked, “That idiot couldn’t catch a cold if she wanted to. She knows far less than I do.” He glanced at the prepared mug, raising at eyebrow at Lucy’s choice of the handmade mug, but filled it with boiling water anyways.  
“Well, ya look too fragile to leave alone, Prof, so I don’t exactly wanna,” she murmured, taking a hold of the infuser and steeping. Alfendi nodded, shrugging.  
“Sure, then. I don’t really mind. I’m going back to bed.” Lucy watched as he trudged off through the living space, stumbling once, vanishing into the bedroom. Did he always have that off kilter gait?  
As their debate ended, the tea had finished steeping, and Lucy gently strained the leaves from the golden elixir. She took two lemon wedges, accompanying a spoonful of viscous honey, squeezing and mixing her very own healing potion. Clicking the soup’s boiler off, she returned to scour the cabinets, finding a small dish set stacked together. Four plates, bowls, and cups sat together, and unlike the mugs, they all matched. Lucy took one of the bowls, providing it a generous heap of chicken noodle soup, and together with the tea she headed towards his bedroom.

When a knock on the door yielded no response, she squeezed her eyes shut as she turned the knob. After a moment she peeked out, finding Alfendi passed out, asleep in bed. A hand fallen against the bed sheets held open his book, a damp washcloth lay on his forehead with spare drops dripping down his cheeks to meld with untied and free hair. Lucy thought her heart skipped a beat, seeing the sleeping beauty with face flushed from fever. Like his living room, Alfendi’s bedroom was rather empty, sporting only a bed, a nightstand, a mostly empty desk, and a lonesome wall shelf. Lucy placed the tea and soup on the nightstand, fetching the chair from the desk so she could sit at his bedside. She watched his steady breaths, his chest rising and falling, and felt the bittersweet blossoms appear in the pit of her stomach that come with love. After what seemed like forever of no stirring, Lucy reached forward to move the damp cloth, placing the back of her hand gingerly against his burning forehead.  
 _Gosh, he’s really sweltering isn’t he?_ Lucy thought, letting her hand linger against the warmth he exuded.   
“May I help you, Miss Baker?” Alfendi murmured, his golden eyes meeting hers from underneath the edges of her fingertips. Long fingers wrapped delicately around her wrist, bringing Lucy back down to the present.  
“A-ah, Prof, sorry, I were just taking yer temperature,” She laughed, and tried to jerk her hand back only to have it caught with his, “I wanted to see if ya were doing any better.”  
“It’s alright, Lucy, I know you meant no harm,” Alfendi released her wrist, using a spare pillow to sit himself up in the bed, “The tea smells good. May I have some?”  
“Ah, of course, Prof.” She handed him the mug, fingertips gliding against each other as he took it. He took a generous sip, before taking to the warm chicken stock soup.

“That was delicious, Lucy, thank you.” Alfendi said, setting down the mug on the nightstand. The two had made soft chitchat as he ate, but nothing much of sustenance. It was clear he was tired, it reflected in his voice and slow, janky movements.   
“Lucy, truly, thank you for coming to take care of me,” Alfendi began, “I’m not really fond of being taken care of, but considering you’ve seen me much lower than this, I suppose it’s not the worst. Especially since I know you should be relaxing, instead of here taking care of me.”  
“Wait, Prof, how did you know I were supposed to be home?”   
“The letter from the Commissioner. It fell out of your jacket pocket,” Alfendi slid the folded paper from within the pages of his book, which he had now folded to display the words ‘ _go home with paid time off.’_ Lucy was speechless for a moment, before snatching it from his fingers.  
“Well, Prof, it’s just…I’unno. I couldn’t let ya just be sick, n’all.”  
“Lucy, I appreciate it, really. It means a lot,” Alfendi smiled, his flushed red face betraying nothing, “You can call me ‘Alfendi,’ too, at least while we’re out of work. I call you ‘Lucy,’ after all.”  
Lucy paused, his name rolling around in her head, before she nodded.  
“Okay, Alfendi. It’s a nice name.”  
“I’m glad you like it, since it is mine, after all. Anyways, I am feeling better, so you should go home, okay? Get at least _some_ paid time off.” Alfendi pulled the covers up a tad, sliding himself from a sitting position back to laying down. Lucy waited for a moment, waiting as she heard his slow, steadied breathing return. She took away the mug and bowl, returning the chair to its position at the desk, and made her her escape to the living room.

After cleaning up the few dishes used, she poured herself a cup of ginger tea with the leftover water, and made herself at home on his couch.  
 _I don’t really wanna bother him more, since he’s asleep, but I also don’t wanna leave just in case he needs summat…_ Lucy thought, one of Alfendi’s books grasped between her fingers. She had picked one randomly, hoping to stave her boredom, yet it merely would up encouraging it. It was a fairly technical book - almost a textbook - and didn’t seem to merit any worthwhile knowledge, at least to Lucy. She had watered the plant to no avail, and the few picture frames didn’t hold much of interest. One was of a teenaged Alfendi and Katrielle at a park somewhere far from London, and the other was of a grown Alfendi and Katrielle with a woman Lucy didn’t recognize. Sighing, she sunk into the couch, setting the book in her lap. His flat was a comfortable temperature, warm and inviting, and smelled like fabric softener, over-steeped tea, and a freshly burnt candle. It was soothing, enough to send Lucy into sleep.

“My dear Lucy, what am I to do with you?” Alfendi murmured, standing over her quiet, passed out figure on the couch. He sighed, a finger idly playing with the crimson stained hair that wildly adorned his shoulders. Alfendi glanced at her bag and jacket on the couch, and to the table where most of her provisions still sat in a neat row. He spied the pink blanket with red hearts, and unfolded it, revealing it was much too small for him, as he had thought earlier.  
“You know, Lucy,” Alfendi placed the blanket over her sleeping form, “You’re much too good for your own sake.” Her feet and legs were still uncovered, but Alfendi decided it was enough to keep him satisfied. He carefully leaned over her, making sure not to disturb her peaceful breathing, and brushed her mussed bangs to the side. He placed a kiss on her exposed forehead, reeling back and flushing much deeper than any fever could provide him. He took one quick look, seeing no change in breathing or eyes open, and scampered back to his bedroom.  
 _Get a grip, dumbass, like she’ll ever know!_ Alfendi berated himself as substitute for banging against the wall, a tactic surely to disturb his neighbors and even stir Lucy. He climbed back into bed, pulling the covers high enough to hide the burning in his cheeks and the flutter in his stomach.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mini epilogue after the sickfic, just felt it didn't fit in the same chapter.

Lucy always took her meal break 30 minutes before Alfendi, to give them each some independent work time while the other ate. In those last few minutes until her lunch time, Lucy scratched away at her paperwork, today a report and house plans for their newest assignment. Across the room, Alfendi did everything he could to not stare at Lucy, in love with her face when she was determined. He tapped his pencil against the report, flicking his eyes between the graphite spot on the page and Lucy’s furrowed eyebrows.  
 _Just ask her, don’t make it weird_ , Placid snapped in his head, _We have literally one job. Ask her to lunch, it’s casual_.  
 _I don’t want ‘casual,’ I want something actual, so that’s why it should be dinner_ , Potty retorted, _I’ll be asking her to dinner, as friends and as a future couple_.  
 _We’re head and assistant. Partners. Even if we think of her as a friend, that might not be the same-_  
The little alarm clock on Lucy’s desk began to ring, signifying her meal period, and Alfendi dropped his pencil. She shut off the ringer, setting down her pen and sliding the paperwork into a folder, and then the folder into her top desk drawer.  
Lucy stood, pulling her modest meal from her bag, and Alfendi stood from his desk as well.  
“Ee, Prof, is everything alright?” Lucy asked, thermos and saran wrapped sandwich in hand.  
“Um, well, Lucy, you see…” Alfendi began, wringing his hands, and feeling a non-fever induced flush fill his face.  
“Are ya feeling unwell again? You’re pretty red.” She set the thermos on her desk, taking a step towards his desk across the room.  
“No, quite the opposite, actually, but that’s besides the point,” Alfendi inhaled, trying to calm himself down, “Lucy, uh, I was actually wondering if this Friday we could go out to dinner? Together? My treat? As an, erm, thank you, for taking care of me the other day.”  
“Oh, Prof, you’re too much,” Lucy laughed, a smile filling her face from ear to ear, “Ya don’t need to thank me for summat like that, but I’d love to go to dinner with ya, if that’s what ya want.”  
“Nothing could make me happier, Lucy.”


End file.
